Ok, so straight into the next chapter! Thanks for the feedback, in particular Madwoman in the TARDIS' information about librarians. For future reference, Aaron and Jenny will be called library pages, while Molly herself is an actual librarian. I'm glad you guys are enjoying the fic!
Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock
Chapter Three
"Clothes?"
"Check."
"Toiletries?"
"Check."
"Transport?"
Rory looked out the window. "Not here yet."
Amy groaned. The minute they'd cut off the transmission, she'd flown into action, throwing everything they might possibly need in their two bags. Her husband had followed after, folding things and packing them away neatly. Now all they needed was their ride.
She almost wished they'd asked River to swing by for them in the TARDIS, but their daughter had seemed very fragile during the conversation they'd had. Though that of course made her even more worried about the archeologist, Amy knew that she couldn't push her daughter. They'd just have to find some time alone to talk.
Amy also just wasn't sure she could face flying in a Doctor-less TARDIS yet again. She hadn't been fooling herself; she was sure the Doctor and River had been getting up to all sorts of trouble while they travelled together—judging by some of the stories they'd told when visiting this past Christmas, they'd gotten up to nothing but trouble. But she and Rory had been able to rest easy knowing that the mad married pair had each other to rely on. Now their alien friend was on his own again.
A sharp honk of a horn pierced the relative quiet, and the Ponds leapt from their seats at the kitchen table, each grabbing a bag and ran out to the UNIT jeep. Perhaps the first positive thing since getting Code Thursday Afternoon, was that behind the wheel sat—
"Gregory!" Amy greeted, throwing her bag in the front and climbing into the backseat with Rory. If the young soldier minded being a chauffeur, he didn't say.
"Hello ma'am," he replied, smiling at them in the rearview mirror. After his rescue from the Sontaran spaceship, Gregory Jenkins had made a rapid recovery under the care of first Dr. Jones and then other UNIT medical staff. They kept in touch through email and the like, but it wasn't quite the same as seeing the young man. If anything gave her hope that they could beat impossible odds once again, this did.
"So, where exactly are we going and why couldn't the Colonel say so over the computer?" Rory asked.
"We don't think this is the case, but if the perpetrator works for UNIT, it could be possible that they'd tap into any sort of communications. The only way to circumvent that is by getting everyone all together. So, we're setting up base near Moorsfields Eye to start an investigation there. If we find something, we'll decide what further action to take."
"Do you think we'll find something?" She asked uncertainly. "It's been five days already."
"They might have slipped up," he answered with a noncommittal shrug, obviously unwilling to discourage her.
The majority of the ride was spent in silence, all three preoccupied with their worried thoughts. She was glad when the large, black trailer came into view, the blue of the TARDIS standing out next to it. Gregory stopped the car, but hadn't even cut off the engine when she jumped out, running to the group of friends she held dear.
"Oh Amy," Jack said, pulling her into one of his huge bear-hugs. He released her quick enough for Rory, who was also hugged by the American. By then, Amy had embraced Sarah Jane.
"I- I just can't believe it," the older woman was saying. "And of all the places to be abducted!" Amy nodded sadly, unable to come up with an explanation either.
"This one's from Martha," Mickey told her, wrapping his arms around her a moment, before pulling back to look at her. "And this one's from me." He leaned in again and hugged her.
"How're you holding up?" Donna asked when Amy reached her next. As the two redheads embraced, the older one muttered in her ear, "I tried to help- with River. But I think she needs you and Rory more than anything right now."
Amy merely hugged her tighter in response. "Thanks for trying," she told her.
"Colonel Mace wants you all for a debriefing," Gregory informed them, holding open the trailer door. So the group began to file in, but the Ponds headed for the TARDIS.
"We'll be there in a minute," Rory said to the others, following her inside the ship and shutting the door quietly. The interior of the TARDIS looked much like it had the last time the Doctor had left it indefinitely: darker and sadder. Its sole occupant was River, facing away from them in a little ball in the pilot's chair.
"River?" Amy called tentatively as she and her husband walked up the steps to the control panel. The curly-haired woman gave a start, her limbs unfolding until she was sitting properly and glanced at them with sadness and- apprehension?
"Hello mum, dad," she said quietly, none of the usual life in her tone. Amy and Rory stood in front of their daughter, neither not entirely sure what to do or say to make this better. There was so much uncertainty about this whole thing.
"We're going to find him, River," Rory promised.
"I know," she said, nodding. But they could tell she was holding back, keeping something locked away, trying to bury it.
"He'll be fine," her husband reiterated, sharing a concerned glance with her.
"Of course he will."
"But it's still ok to be upset, you know. We all are."
"Yes, dad, I know." Their daughter sniffed once before standing. "Right, wasn't someone saying something about a debriefing? We should really get g—"
"River? What's the matter? What's really the matter?" She locked eyes with the older looking woman for a moment, and it seemed as though it would end in a stalemate. But then River Song crumbled.
"I yelled at him, mum!" She cried, dropping back into the chair and covering her face with her hands. "The last thing I did—and it was stupid! It was just a stupid, little fight, but I wouldn't go with him- and- and now—" she couldn't seem to continue, breaking off into harsh sobs. Amy and Rory threw themselves down on either side of the chair, wrapping their guilt-ridden daughter in a hug between them.
"You couldn't have known," Rory pointed out. "It should have been like any other argument."
"But that's the point, it wasn't!" River protested through her tears. "And the worst part of it all- the worst part—he apologized, and I ignored him! The stupidest, most pointless fight we've ever had, and I just couldn't give in." She shook with the sobs she was still attempting to hold at bay, and Amy tightened her grip on her daughter in response.
"If it's that stupid, I'm sure he understands." But it only served to increase her daughter's crying.
"I know, mum—always and completely," she choked the familiar phrase out. River swallowed and looked up at them, a look of terrible regret and sorrow coloring her every feature. "But wherever he is- whenever he thinks of me, the last thing he has to remember me by is silence and a slammed door."
The tears started to pour down her cheeks again, so Rory grabbed a handkerchief from a drawer in the console and wiped gently at her face. Amy guided her daughter's head to rest on her shoulder, and wrapped her arms around again.
"Did I ever tell you the last thing I said to your father before he got shot by a Silurian?" She felt the slight shake of the other woman's head. "I said, 'Other way, idiot!' I called him an idiot. And then when he got shot, it was all, 'Shush, don't talk.' Not 'I love you.'" She felt Rory take one of her hands, feeling comforted by the gesture. "And then he'd been erased from existence, and I couldn't remember him, but I cried all the time. I didn't know why then, but I think maybe that had something to do with it."
"I thought about Amy a lot, when I was a Roman," Rory spoke up quietly. "But I wasn't thinking about the names she called me, or any specific thing, really. Just her. And that was enough." They smiled at each other over their daughter's head. She felt one of River's arms go around her and knew the other had to be around Rory.
"Thank you," she said. "I think I needed to hear that."
"That's what we're here for, yeah?" Amy said, and her daughter sat up, taking the handkerchief from Rory and fully wiping away the tears.
She took a somewhat shaky breath, but seemed mostly calmed down. "Ok, we're due at a debriefing, correct?" River stood, Amy and Rory following her. "Let's not keep them waiting, then." There was an unspoken 'Let's not keep him waiting' in there that they completely agreed with.
The three of them made their way through the familiar layout of the trailer, which seemed a hive of activity. UNIT personnel were rushing back and forth between computers, comparing different data on papers, and a group stood on standby waiting for the order to enter the hospital. Gregory appeared to be in charge there, and he nodded briefly at her before returning to lecturing the troops. Looked like he was making his way up in this organization after all.
"Sorry we're late," she said, pushing open the door to the conference room. But the others just smiled. Jack patted the seat next to him with a grin, and River actually managed an exasperated huff before taking it. Amy grabbed the next chair and Rory slid in between her and Mickey.
"So, we're all here," Sarah Jane said on Mickey's other side, turning her expectant gaze to the UNIT officer. "What is the plan, Colonel?"
"We've been doing an extensive search of our personnel records, and so far have yet to find any doctors, past or present, with the name Charlene," he informed them. "So far, it appears she was neither employed here or at Moorfields Eye Hospital."
"What if she wasn't employed?" Donna piped up, and they all looked at her curiously. "Well, you lot have internships, don't you? Work studies? If she did one of those, she wouldn't be on your personnel list."
"That's brilliant, Donna," Jack praised, and the redhead shrugged, but there was a pleased smile on her face.
Sarah Jane appeared to be taking notes. "So, you look through records of internships and the like, then what? A search of the hospital?"
"Correct. We'll look to find any evidence of who she was, what she was planning, and where she's taken the Doctor."
"It wasn't just her," River suddenly said, and Amy's eyebrows shot up. "I didn't get a chance to say, because the Colonel pointed out the link might have been compromised, but when the TARDIS locked me in, I tried opening the doors. But on the other side, there was a man trying to get in. I didn't recognize his voice, but he said something about it 'not being fair' when she dematerialized."
"So this Charlene's got an accomplice," Mickey summarized and River nodded. "So we get people looking for a man and a woman with a captive."
"Do we think this man was working for UNIT, too?" Rory inquired.
"It's too early to tell. But perhaps the records should be searched for any former employees or interns who might have a connection," Colonel Mace noted, the investigative journalist jotting it down. "The sooner we find this security breach, the better."
"I've already taken Martha's old cell number off the official records," Mickey offered.
"And no one's going to find it if they try looking at Torchwood," Jack added.
Amy suddenly gasped. "The phone," she said quietly.
"What?" Rory turned to her in confusion.
"The phone!" She tore from the room, and from the sound of pounding footsteps behind her, knew the others weren't that far behind. Bursting back into the console room, Amy practically flew up the steps and snatched up the cell phone from where the Doctor had laid it down.
"What is it?" Sarah Jane asked, breathless.
Amy began pressing buttons, having to stop and start over once or twice because her hands were shaking. "Well, we don't have a name or anything," she said, feeling a rising sense of excitement. "But we know Dr. Charlene used a phone to contact the Doctor."
River gasped in realization as well. "Call back the last number that phoned…and see who picks up. That's brilliant, mum!"
"Number's not recognized, so definitely not someone Martha knew well," she commented, finger hovering over the call button. What would she do if someone picked up? What would she say?
Amy hit it, resolving to give this Charlene or her boyfriend or whomever a piece of her mind. It rang three times, and then, "Um, hello?" A man's voice asked.
Amy's shoulders slumped in disappointment. "Hi, Gregory," she replied, defeat coloring her tone.
"Ma'am? Is there any reason you're calling a pay phone outside the hospital?" The soldier asked in confusion, and now she could hear the sounds of people and traffic moving by. "The Colonel has our radio frequency."
"No- no reason. Sorry, Gregory, just go back to what you were doing." Amy snapped the phone shut and raised her head to meet their bewildered faces. "She used a pay phone," she announced, feeling even more anger at this mystery woman for being so clever.
The others looked just as discouraged. "Hey, it's going to be alright," Jack said softly, looking at them all. "How many times has he been captured before? I bet he's talking his way out of it right now."
"Colonel?" Gregory's voice crackled to life through the radio perched on the officer's shoulder.
"Report," the Colonel instructed.
"A couple of the men found something in the basement, sir," the young man stated. "Under a desk. It might have fallen, but I think someone hid it there on purpose." Amy and the others glanced at each other in interest, but Gregory's next statement really got their attention. "I think it was the Doctor."
"And what leads you to that conclusion?"
"Because, sir, it's a key. And I think I know what it opens." The TARDIS emitted a low, somber hum, only confirming Gregory's suspicions.
River turned away from them to place a comforting hand on the console. Rory, Jack, Mickey, and the Colonel all looked grim-faced, while Amy shared a worried look with Donna and Sarah Jane.
"I'll see if the hospital's got any surveillance footage of the basement," Mickey said, hurrying out of the ship.
"I'm going to ask around, see if anyone noticed anything suspicious," Sarah Jane followed quickly after.
"I'll look through the records for that intern," Donna announced, a determined look on her face and she marched outside.
"I think I want to get a look at that basement myself," Jack told them, heading out the door as well.
"Is there anything we can do?" Rory asked the Colonel, for the man was leaving as well.
"Nothing at the moment, but I shall inform you immediately if anything should come up," he assured them, likely returning to his office.
She knew why they'd all left. They needed things to do, something to distract them. Just like the Ponds wanted something to do, to distract themselves with. Because neither wanted to dwell on why the Doctor would ever give up his precious TARDIS key.
OoO
"—even going to do with him, Charlene? I mean, great, you got him, now what?" The agitated male's voice reached his ears slowly, sounding distant and yet he was sure the source was quite close.
"Will you cut it out with the questions, Rich?" A female snapped back, shaky and yet full of purpose. Like someone who's just tasted the thrill of doing something wrong. "Now's when we really get to work."
"Like finding a hideout with lab equipment wasn't work," the man grumbled, and he could hear their voices much better now. The man and the woman were arguing a few feet away from him, and he—
Was lying on a cold slab of some sort of metal, bound at the feet, the wrist, and the torso. He nearly opened his eyes, but a quick flutter of his lashes revealed a blinding white light was positioned above him. Best not, then.
"Oh, stop your complaining," the woman scolded. "You were just as keen on this plan as I was—"
"Yeah, before, when you promised me his TARDIS!" The Doctor almost gave a start at the exclamation, but managed to keep his body and facial expression relaxed, even as he felt a growing sense of panic.
Charlene and Rich…Dr. Griffiths and Butler. His abductors. So he'd been spirited away somewhere, and it was the morning? The afternoon? His brain- his innate sense of time –just didn't seem to be working—side effect of the chloroform. He didn't know where he was, when he was, or what was going to happen to him.
Well, at least this was new.
"You said I'd get to take that thing apart—the only time machine in existence—and see just what made it tick," Butler was saying, and the Doctor had to work to keep his breathing the slow, steady in-and-out of the unconscious. No one took his Sexy apart! "Now that would be something useful," his male abductor continued, "Something scientifically founded. Not- not—kidnapping!"
He just couldn't keep his mouth shut any longer. "Oh, and stealing a TARDIS wouldn't be kidnapping?" The Doctor turned his head away from the light, and opened his eyes to see the pair of them staring at him in shock. "She's alive, same as you and me. Shame on you, Richard."
The man seemed to be having trouble coming up with a response, but Dr. Griffiths stepped forward, her eyes alight with excitement. "You're finally awake."
"I am," he replied, trying to remain confident even though he was the one tied down and she was looming above him. Butler stood off a ways, his tweed jacket tucked under the engineer's arm. It looked like a standard lab, with off-white walls and no windows. A metal table was to the side, lined with all sorts of medical instruments. Most of them looked sharp. A stand with wheels stood just to his left, with an IV tube wrapped around it and waiting for some sort of fluid bag to be attached so that it could drip down into—
"Hello, what's this?" He squirmed a bit, trying to dislodge the IV from where it had been stuck into his arm. But the medical tape held.
"I couldn't start until you'd regained consciousness—the records almost always say you're awake, and I like to minimize the variables." She went over to the table and retrieved an IV bag, hooking it up, but not letting the unknown liquid begin its journey into his system yet.
"The variables," he repeated, "of your test- that was how you put it, yes?" She nodded, and he looked at her seriously. "I see what got Richard here- he wanted a look at my TARDIS. But your motives aren't entirely clear to me, Charlene. Why are you doing this?"
"That's a loaded question," she said, pausing in her moving about and staring down at him. "When I was ten years old, Doctor, I had a best friend who was a piano prodigy. He didn't just play well- he played perfectly. He was going to be a star." She smiled wistfully, before a sad look came to her face. "But then there was an accident—he lost his hand. He could never play the piano again." He couldn't help but share in her sorrow of this boy's shattered dream.
"That's why I went into medicine," she told him. "Not just so I could help people- but so I could find cures, improve it to the point where people didn't need medicine. Because I learned, Doctor, that the medical system is as broken as any other. Research grinds to a halt and stagnates, people wait months and years to receive the care they really need. My father died last year, on the waiting list for a new heart." She had to stop and wipe at her eyes. If he could have, he probably would have grabbed her hand, but he was still trapped.
"I'm sorry," he offered, and she shook her head, obviously trying to work past her grief.
"In my efforts, I've taken jobs with all sorts of organizations, applied for grants to study abroad, been accepted into internship programs around the world. I wanted to explore every avenue." He nodded in acknowledgement, as it was sound reasoning. "So imagine the wonder I felt, Doctor, when I was sorting through old records for the Unified Intelligence Taskforce, and came across an unbelievable tale. On Christmas Day, the Sycorax attempted to invade, but were stopped by a man who lost his hand in a sword fight…and grew it back."
He froze, warily observing her as she grasped his hand and ran her fingers over every bump and curve of his.
"And that hadn't been the first time—oh no, this man could never die. On the verge of death, he'd regenerate and build his body anew."
The Doctor swallowed, as his mouth had gone dry. "Charlene, regeneration isn't something you can replicate in humans- no matter how many tests you'd run. They can't—"
"I know," she interrupted him, and his mouth snapped shut as her hands trailed up his arm to his bowtie, and the human doctor slowly undid the knot like a child might unwrap their last Christmas present. "But my father died without a working heart," she undid the first three buttons of his shirt and rested a cold hand over his hammering chest. "And you've got two."
"Because I need two, or else I die," he tried to make her see, real fear entering his tone now.
"And then you'll come back," she said with a smile that he had to describe in his head as positively mad.
"Yes, but- sticking my heart into someone else? That's dangerous- the chances of even finding someone compatible—"
"Is very high. One hundred percent, in fact." His eyes widened in shock. "You've never bothered to check, but maybe because of regeneration the inside of your body is incredibly compatible. Even your blood is O¯."
"The universal donor," he breathed and she nodded.
"And more than that. I did run one little test, Doctor. Just to see if my theory was right. Last year, you were placed in a UNIT med bay, and they ran some blood work on you. Just one tiny vial, but that was all I needed. Because there was also a young man, a Greyhound recovering from starvation." Gregory Jenkins, he realized, and hoped that whatever test this had been it had ended positively for the young soldier. "He was so weak they were having him sip water and feeding him with an IV tube. In the confusion of heading back to base, and Dr. Jones being given time off for her family, I stole your blood and fed it into his system."
He waited with bated breath, wishing he had bothered to check up on the young soldier so that he would know already.
"It was beyond a success. The foreign blood mixed in, assimilated, and fixed him. He was eating solid food by the end of the week. Like your blood had seen what was wrong with its new body and fixed it. And he even stayed human."
"Like nanogenes," he muttered in a daze, hardly able to believe what she had revealed to him. "So you want to repeat the process again, but with more than blood." His eyebrows shot to his hairline as he gaped at her. "You're manufacturing an organ factory with me as the- as the supply."
"The stories say you're a genius," she praised.
Well, now that he knew what she was after, he at least had a trump card. "There's just one problem." She raised an eyebrow, and so he continued. "You can open me up, empty me out and harvest my organs, sure. And I'm sure the people to whom they go to would be very happy to receive them." The human doctor nodded, and he couldn't help but admire her reasoning, just a tiny bit. It took a truly insane mind to come up with this. "But you could only do it twice. I'd die, regenerate, and die one more time- but stay dead. Because that's all I've got left, Charlene. I'm a very old man."
He couldn't help but feel puzzled and a little uneasy as a relieved smile came to her face. "Is that all? Doctor, haven't you been wondering what this is?" She indicated the IV bag with a nod of her head. His eyes went back to it, curiosity rekindled. "Rich whipped it up—another prodigy, but an engineer this time. Electrical, mechanical, chemical, you name it." His gaze fell on Butler, who looked away and adjusted his grip on his jacket.
"Because I found a record of a Time Lord who did die—the Master." Even now, the name made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "But his followers brought him back with something they called the Potion of Life. It wasn't a complete success, because his widow threw in her own concoction—the Potion of Death." The story was familiar to him, but he still felt fresh guilt for Lucy Saxon- the woman who had died trying to stop his best enemy because he was too busy trying to run from his own fate.
"I put a lot of thought into that, Doctor. And also, into the regrowth of your hand. Most people think Time Lords have to change bodies when they regenerate, don't they? But that's a lie, isn't it, Doctor." He flinched under her scrutinizing gaze. "If the energy can be siphoned- or stopped after it has healed the physical wounds, it doesn't count as a complete regeneration."
"That's correct," he said softly, somehow knowing where she was going before she said it.
"This is a diluted mix of those two potions," the human doctor informed him, pointing at the IV bag. "It's designed to stunt the regeneration, to dilute it in a way, so that it stops before your body is switched. You don't have to worry about staying dead, Doctor."
"Because I'll live and die and live indefinitely," he finished for her, unable to look her in the eye and settling on staring at the IV bag instead, the instrument for his unending fate. "You're going to take everything out, bring me back, and scoop it all out again. Forever." In his peripheral vision, he saw her nod in confirmation. "I won't ever die. But I won't ever live again."
"And how long have you lived, Doctor?" She asked, and he could hear just a hint of accusation in her tone.
"Nearly twelve-hundred years," he answered truthfully, risking a glance at Dr. Griffiths and wishing he hadn't, because the reproving expression on her face was too much.
"That's more than twelve times the life of any ordinary human," she pointed out.
"I know," he acknowledged, barely able to get the words out.
"My father didn't even make it to sixty." Her hand touched down on his chest again, and he almost wished he could just rip it out, hand it to her, and see if that'd satisfy her. "And I wonder how many people, how many friends of yours died for you, Doctor—without knowing you could regenerate. How many do you think would have sacrificed their lives for you if they'd known you could withstand it?"
He shut his eyes, a fresh wave of remorse washing over him. So many dead because he—because just a body—had been in danger…Rory and Astrid and Jenny and so- so many others.
"You're the Last of the Time Lords, and you couldn't save them. But haven't you ever thought that maybe you survived for a reason?" His eyes popped open again, staring up at her. "Maybe you couldn't save them, but you can save the human race. So many people are waiting, Doctor, and dying because they can't get what they need. You fly through time and space but right here, right now people need your help. Nobody listens to their begging, their pleading. But you will, won't you?" When before he couldn't look at her, now it was as if he couldn't look away he so was captivated by her words.
"Th-this can't be right." And the spell was broken by Butler, who was pressed against the wall as though trying to melt through it, a horror-struck look on his face. Dr. Griffiths scowled, and stalked toward him.
"Oh, don't act all high-and-mighty with me—you're only having second thoughts because we didn't get the TARDIS."
"That's not true!" The man shot back defensively, but it was very unconvincing. "But, since we didn't get it, I- I don't want any part of this anymore." He nervously pushed his glasses up his nose and set the tweed jacket down.
"So what, you'll just go back to living your average life, constantly quitting your job because it's too boring for you?" She had a hand on her hip now, and Butler swallowed.
"Y-yes. I've done everything you've asked, you don't need me anymore. And I don't have any interest in this—" he waved his arm in the direction of the tied-up Doctor.
The human doctor didn't say anything for a moment. "Fine. Don't let anybody see you leave." She turned away from the engineer, who let out the breath he'd been holding and headed for the door. But the Doctor saw the look of grim determination on Dr. Griffith's face, and the flash of metal from the knife she grabbed from the table.
"Richard!" He cried in warning, but she spun about and sunk the knife into the man's back. The man yelled in pain before crumpling to the floor, blood seeping through his shirt and dripping onto the floor. Completely calm, she stood and wiped the knife clean. "What have you done?" He demanded hoarsely, unable to tear his eyes from the engineer's fallen form.
"Given him an interest," she replied, walking into another room and wheeling in a stretcher and stopping it next to him. She managed to heave the man's deadweight up and onto the stretcher. Richard's eyes were wide as he breathed in and out, ragged and pierced occasionally by another moan. "I can't have him going to the authorities. And now, dear Rich needs a new kidney, but he's got to wait in line at the hospital- if he makes it there." Her blue-gray eyes swept up from the injured man to lock on his.
The Doctor swallowed. Kidneys always were to first to quit.
Really long, I know, but that second section needed to be perfect. I'll let you guys tell me how I did. Thanks for reading, and please review!